Ten minutes later I’m handing over a Lincoln and taking my bowl of steaming Andouille sausage slices and rice and chicken chunks.

They say “jamabalaya,” the word, comes from the French, with a bit of African: “Jamb à la ya,” meaning jambon (“ham,” in French) with “ya,” (the word enslaved Africans in the New World used for “rice”). Or it comes from jamon (Spanish for ham) plus paella. Or maybe it comes from the local Atakapa people’s phrase, “Sham, pal ha! Ya!” (“Be full, not skinny! Eat up!”).

That’s what Wikipedia says anyway.

Whatever, it is salty-delicious. Like they spent time to let it all soak together. Clinton, who’s from Louisiana, says folks back there are more interested as to whether it's Creole (“red”) jambalaya, or Cajun (no tomatoes).

Honestly, downing this, I could go straight home full, if it wasn’t for that cupcake truck with the come-on look at the Mission Brewery end of the lot.